"We can't keep too close to them either," said Bob. "Besides, my thumb and forefinger are pretty sore from that fuse burn and it's hard to grip the wheel."
"Mine are sore too," said Hugh. "Put on gloves."
"I haven't any with me."
"I have; take mine."
Still watching the small red dot ahead of them Bob managed to slip on
Hugh's right-hand glove. It was a great help to him in driving.
"They've turned a corner," exclaimed Hugh suddenly. "Faster, Bob!"
Bob pressed his foot on the accelerator and the car leaped forward as if it were a living thing. A moment later they reached the cross street and turned into it, peering anxiously ahead. The car they were following was still in sight.
"Keep about two hundred yards in back of them," Hugh advised.
"We mustn't lose them."
"No, and we don't want them to get suspicious either."